


Relay Soul

by sitabethel



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M, Thiefshipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 11:22:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11896704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sitabethel/pseuds/sitabethel
Summary: Magic can save Bakura's soul from the Shadow Realm, but only a miracle can bring the dead back to life...





	Relay Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Image done my Midnite. You can follow him on Tumblr @mid-k-night

 

**Chapter 1 **

“Your name is Bakura,” Marik chanted in the old, formal tomb-keeper language that no one ever spoke.

He knelt as if in prayer. Perhaps it was a prayer more than a spell.

“Your name is Bakura.”

He grew up speaking a mashup of dead and colloquial Egyptian, although he knew proper Egyptian Arabic as well. But the magic required the old speech, the dialect used to summon Ra from his sacred sphere, so Marik had learned it.

“And I call you to me.”

He’d also learned how to swallow his fear of the dark. The spell had to be recited in the deceased's tomb. Bakura didn't have a tomb, but the Ring was buried with the other Items, and Marik hoped that was good enough- that he wasn't chanting on his knees in the dirt and dark for nothing.

“Your name is Bakura. Your name is Bakura, and I call you to me. I call your ren to me. I call your ba to me. I call all your soul to me.”

Or whatever parts of a soul the Ring Spirit managed to salvage after his last battle with the Pharaoh.

“Your name is Bakura and I call all your soul to me.”

“Marik?”

Marik jerked up his head.

“Bakura?”

He couldn't help smiling. Prayer or spell, it had worked, and now the Spirit knelt in the soil in front of Marik.

But he was only a spirit, a translucent ghost kneeling in the dirt but leaving no imprints in the soil.

“You… freed my soul from the Ring.”

“I'm sorry. It's all I could do.” Marik's smile turned brittle and bittersweet. “Magic can only do so much… only a miracle can bring back the dead.”

Bakura brought his hands up to his face, looking through them. A dry, raspy laugh escaped him.

“I've been trapped three thousand years… this is an improvement.” He lowered his hands and stared at Marik. “Thanks.”

Bakura reached out then, as if he wanted to touch Marik's face. Marik's eyes fluttered shut in anticipation. He had dreamed of such a touch, of Bakura's cool fingers brushing against his cheek. Fingers that were quick to stab, and quick to roll dice, and quick to pull a card from his hand, but despite all that, Marik somehow knew that the first time Bakura truly touched Marik it would be slow and soft and unlike anything Marik had ever felt before.

But only a vague, chilled impression of air blew against his skin.

“I'm sorry.” Bakura's voice was husky, rueful. “I guess I can't.”

Marik blinked his eyes back open in confusion. He reached out, trying to lace his and Bakura's fingers together, but his hand slipped through, leaving only that faint breezy sensation against Marik's palms.

“Figures.” Marik didn't weep, but tears rolled down his cheeks.

“What's this?” Bakura wiped at the tears despite the futility of it.

And isn't that what drew Marik to him? The way Bakura never stopped trying despite how hopeless his odds were.

“The leader of the Ghouls isn't the type to shed tears.”

“That feels like a lifetime ago.” Marik snorted.

“How long has it actually been? You look older.”

“Five years. The spell was hard to find.” Marik sighed and swiped at his cheeks.

“That's not very long.” Bakura shrugged.

“This feels so… worthless. It can't _end_ like this.” Marik clenched his hands into fists. “I didn't overcome my fear of the dark to be haunted by an asshole for the rest of my life- I did it so I could slap you and call you a fucking idiot for challenging the pharaoh again!”

“So sorry that I won't be getting slapped.” Bakura laughed.

“You should have known you couldn't win. If I lost, there's no way for you to beat him.”

Bakura snorted, smoothing down his spikes although they only popped back into horns- another futile battle for Bakura to fight.

“You underestimate me. Besides, you didn't lose. You quit. That's much worse.”

“You weren't complaining when I left the Ring on before showing the Pharaoh my back.”

“Of course not, I can keep my mouth shut when I'm about to get what I want. Besides, I earned that information when I fought your other half.”

“You lost that fight, too.”

“Stacked deck much?”

“Well excuse me, I thought Mr. Lord Of Darkness could handle himself in a card game even against a broken deck.”

“Like you said, magic can only do so much. After that you need a miracle.”

Marik started laughing. The sound was joyous and mournful and exhausted all at once.

“Is it strange? That I missed this?”

“The arguing?” Bakura raised a bone-white eyebrow.

“Yes,” Marik confessed. “Everyone else looks at me like my hair will spike up if they so much as breathe hard at me.” Marik leaned closer to Bakura, seeking warmth that didn't exist. “You always treated me like-”

“A nuisance?”

“An equal.”

“Yeah.” A smile stole itself across Bakura's face. “Hell, we were partners, right?”

Marik hummed in agreement. A difficult silence swelled between them. Then, both at once, they reached out for each other. They couldn't touch, they knew that, but they hovered their fingers on each other's faces.

Marik ghosted his hands over Bakura's gorgeous, white hair, and Bakura traced the shape of Marik's jewelry on his arms, wrists, and throat.

“This is stupid,” Bakura hissed. “This is useless.”

“Don't stop,” Marik insisted, commanded, as he continued to glide his hands up and down Bakura's arms.

“I can't stop… I wouldn't stop even if I could.” Bakura's voice sounded desperate. “I wish I could touch you.”

“I wish I could kiss you.” Marik looked up, and rust colored eyes were burning a hole into Marik's soul as they stared back at him.

They leaned forward. They were stubborn, and proud. They were once gods- in their own way- and they weren't going to let either death or physics stop them from taking what they wanted.

They kept their eyes opened, unable to feel out the kiss. They opened their mouths and matched their lips just so. Marik growled, frustrated, and tried to deepen the kiss, but only managed to fall forward.

Not only did he have the taste of dirt in his mouth, but he had to endure Bakura's insufferable laughter. Marik spat.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“I swear to the gods, if you were solid I'd have you naked in this dirt and screaming my name by now.”

“Sounds glorious, but that's quite impossible, I'm afraid. Better get used to this or leave me here right now.”

“I'm not leaving you.” Marik brushed himself off and tried again.

Bakura grinned into their not-quite-kiss, but it died on his face.

“Marik… we can't.”

“Fuck you, we're doing just fine.”

“For how long? You can't spend your whole life with my ghost.”

Marik laughed and it was bitter, and cruel, and above all, wounded.

“Tell me why not? I was forced to spend the first half with a dead pharaoh. Why not spend the rest with a dead thief?”

Bakura snorted, just as bitter and wounded as Marik. “I know I've been a parasite for most of my existence, but even I can't sit back and watch you throw your life away to stay with my ghost.”

“Fuck you. It's my choice.”

“You'll find a real lover.”

“I will not. I'll have you know, I happen to hate everyone.” Marik crossed his arms over his chest.

“That's another thing we have in common.” Bakura tried to draw in the dirt below them, but couldn't move the grains of sand.

Marik placed his nose at the tip of Bakura's nose. Their hands rose up, palms “pressing” together. They held in that position for another quiet minute.

“How pathetic am I? This is actually the closest I’ve gotten to touching another human being since they melted my family in a caldron.”

Marik did his best to cup the back of Bakura's head. He brushed his nose along Bakura's cheek bones. Bakura seemed to sense exactly what Marik wanted to do, and he leaned back as Marik leaned forward. Marik lay Bakura down against the dirt. Their bodies went through each other so that Marik pretty much propped himself up off of the dirt although he was trying to lay on top of Bakura’s body.

But they ignored the faint chill that overlap caused and focused on each other’s faces as they hovered close enough that they _should_ have felt each other’s breaths. Bakura’s lids lowered and his mouth parted and Marik seized the moment. He skimmed their lips together again, and again, and again. He even managed to make Bakura moan simply from the _concept_ of what they were doing.

“Let's go home,” Marik whispered.

Bakura combed his fingers through Marik's hair- all the way through.

“Sure, just don't blame me when this ends awfully.”

“Of course I'll blame you.” Marik winked. “It'll somehow be your fault.”

They stood up, staring at each other, holding hands without touching. A bright light made them turn their heads.

It was the outline of a doorway. The door opened up, spilling light into the chamber, and the Pharaoh himself stepped back into the world.

He wore an Atef crown and carried a crook and flail. Fine, white linen draped down his body, adorned with both jewels and gold.

Bakura spat into the soil near Atem's feet.

“I wouldn't recommend carrying hatred in your heart. That will only weigh it down when Anubis places it on the scales,” Atem said.

Bakura threw back his head and cackled. He held his belly, as if trying to hold in all the bitterness and rage.

“No need to weigh it. Whatever scraps of heart I have left weigh as much as the Seven Golden Items.”

“Bakura, it's over. You failed to bring Zorc into the world and the Items are all buried.”

“Yes, buried.” Bakura kicked the dirt, although he couldn't disturb it in his current state. “Without names. Without honors. Tell me, _god-king,_ ” Bakura spat the last word like a curse. “Would this dark earth be a fitting resting place if it was _your_ mother? No, of course not. She rests in a tomb of her own- a magnificent one, designed by my grandfather.”

“Bakura. It is time for you to rest. All your people have been judged by their deeds before their tragedy. Some are in Aaru. Some are not.” Atem moved the crook and flail both into his left hand so he could extend his right hand. “All that's left is you. The gods couldn't reach you in the Ring, but now you're free. Come. Let's see how your heart does.”

“His heart is mine!” Marik screamed. He stepped in front of Bakura, protecting him from the Pharaoh.

“Marik.” A sad look crossed Atem's face. “It's Bakura's time. Let him go.”

“No.” Marik shook his head. “No! I'm the one that freed his soul. I summoned him to me- you have no right to appear and take him!”

“I'm not afraid of the gods.” Bakura snorted, arms crossed over his chest.

“That's irrelevant. I summoned your complete soul to me- including your _ib-_ your heart belongs to me.” Marik turned and glared at Bakura. “Disagree with me. I dare you. Say out loud that I don't own your heart.”

A crooked smile marred Bakura's face. He rested his hands on his hips and stared at Marik with annoyed affection before glancing back at Atem.

“What can I say? There's really no arguing with him.”

“I hope your bond is enough to help Bakura's heart balance. I really do.” Atem smiled, still holding out his hand. “Come, Bakura. It's time.”

“I challenge you to a duel!” Marik shrieked.

“Marik-”

“You owe me. You owe me! My whole life, my scars, I forfeited my match to you! I fulfilled my duty to you and showed you my back! _Do not deny me this!_ We duel- Bakura's soul goes with the winner.”

“Bakura?” Atem stared at him.

Bakura looked back and forth between Marik and the Pharaoh. Then he stopped, eyes locked on Marik's face.

“I'm a fool.” Bakura snorted. “Because only a fool would give up a chance for the Fields to stay in this miserable world. Still … I'd rather stay here with Marik as a ghost…” Only then did Bakura turn back to the Pharaoh. “Than to even take your place and rule Aaru from a throne.”

Atem nodded. “You have three days to meet me at Yugi’s Game Shop. Aibou and I versus the two of you. If you win- Bakura can stay.”

“We'll be there,” Marik said through gritted teeth.

Another glow, and then Atem was gone.

Marik dropped to his knees.

“What the fuck did I just get us into?”

“Don't worry.” Bakura gave him a dark chuckle. “This isn't even the hardest duel you've ever dragged me into.”

“Yeah.” Marik grinned. “True. Guess I better go home to take a shower and tell Ishizu I'm off to Japan.”

“Hopefully she can't see me.” Bakura frowned.

***

Ishizu pointed right at Bakura the moment he walked into the apartment.

“Marik, what is that foul Spirit doing following you around?”

“Dammit,” Bakura muttered under his breath.

“I freed him from the Ring, and I'm going to duel the Pharaoh for his soul,” Marik said in a calm voice, as if saying _it's Monday_ or _the soup has both chives and garlic._

Marik clenched one fist and dug the fingers of his opposite hand into his hip. He made a point to stare at the cream-colored carpet instead of his sister.

“Well?”

“Well what, brother?” Ishizu asked with her lips pursed in an unhappy expression.

“Yell at me.”

A loud sigh escaped Ishizu’s throat, and she looked up at the ceiling as if to ask the gods why they, in their great wisdom, had decided to single her out for such trials of long suffering. Ishizu then walked to an ornate case settled on a tall bookshelf. She carried the copper case over and offered it to Marik.

“These duel monster cards belonged to Ryou Bakura.”

Marik looked up, brow creasing in confusion. “Then why do you have them?”

“I asked to borrow them the last time he, Yugi, and the others visited.”

“You mean during the Ceremonial Duel?”

“Yes.”

“Ishizu…” Marik paused as he organized his question. “That was five years ago. Why would you ask Ryou for his cards?”

“Because, before I gave the Necklace back to the Pharaoh, I saw one last vision that suggested that you’d need them.”

“Great, she already knows how badly we’re going to lose.” Bakura snorted. “I’m personally hoping we beat the thousand life point spread. It’s the closest one can hope to get to winning against the Pharaoh, after all.”

“Bakura,” Ishizu said, “do you realize that you haven’t avoided your Judgement at all? Whether it’s by the scales or this card game, the Pharaoh will be able to determine the strengths and weakness of your heart. If you lose, it’s because your heart was too wicked to win.”

“I used to believe that, three thousand years ago.” Bakura snarled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Back then _I was in the right_ , and I knew I was going to win because of it…” Bakura’s arms dropped like dead weight to his sides. “But I lost. Which means games are devices of chance and skill- the gods stopped paying attention long before Kul Elna burned to the ground.”

“You lost three thousand years ago because you joined forces with the Darkness, Bakura.”

“Funny how _I_ get punished for that when the Pharaoh and his court wore my people like they were just another trinket. But no, _I_ was the one who was evil.”

“We wore the Items to protect the kingdom- you used to Ring because you wanted to kill the Pharao-”

“That was justice!”

Ishizu sighed. “You still don’t see, but it’s out of my hands. Brother, I wish you luck in your quest.” She gave Bakura a perturbed glance. “Surely you’ll need it.”

“Um, thanks, Sister.” Marik took the box out of Ishizu’s hands.

“I need to go to the market. You’ll be gone by the time I return.” Ishizu gave Marik a brief, but sincere hug. “I will see you in a week Marik.”

“Alone?” Marik asked, whispering the question into his sister’s ear as if volume could change the outcome.

“That depends on you, and on him.” Ishizu kissed Marik’s forehead and headed for the door.

Once she left, Marik and Bakura stared at each other for a moment.

“That went better than I expected,” Marik said.

“You’re right. She practically accepted me into the family.” Bakura snorted, amused.

“She could have lit sage and driven you away.” Marik shrugged, looking down at the box in his hands. “I wonder what she saw. I can tell she was being guarded with her answers.”

“She probably saw me foaming at the mouth, cursing the Pharaoh’s existence, and losing without a lick of grace or composure.”

“Yeah, probably.” Marik laughed, but the sound of it was heavy and mournful.

“Brother.”

Marik looked up from the box and saw Rishid standing in the hallway.

“Hey, Rishid.”

“I also have a card to give to you. It’s a trap card.” He held out his hand and Marik walked to meet him.

“Thanks.” Marik slipped the card into the copper case without looking at it.

“I have several errands to run. You’ll be gone by the time I return.” Rishid rested his hand on Marik’s shoulder. “I know you’ll win, but good luck.”

“I appreciate that, Rishid.” Marik copied Rishid’s gesture, resting his hand on Rishid’s shoulder for a moment before they broke apart and Rishid moved to leave.

As he walked towards the door, he nodded at Bakura. “Good to see you again, Bakura.”

“Yeah, we always have so much fun whenever the three of us hang out.” Bakura rolled his eyes.

“I look forward to the day that you can say such words without the irony in your tone.” Rishid took his motorcyle keys and helmet and then left the apartment.

“That was weird.” Marik shook his head.

“Did… they just get scarce for our sake?” Bakura frowned.

Marik wasn’t the type to show his emotions on his face- not his real emotions, at least- but when Bakura suggested that his siblings had left them alone on purpose, he blushed. Nevertheless, he managed to keep an even tone when he spoke.

“Nah, they probably hate you so much that they wanted to avoid you until after we left.”

Marik carried the copper case to his room and set it on his bed. He pulled out a suitcase, opened it, folded a few clothes inside, and then stretched.

“The boat has a shower, but the water pressure is atrocious. I’m going to take a quick one here to get all the dirt off my back before we head out.”

Bakura nodded and followed Marik into the bathroom.

“What the fuck, Bakura?”

“What?”

“I’m going to take a shower.”

“I heard you the first time.”

“Okay, so get out of the bathroom and let me get this over with.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do in the meantime? I can’t interact with anything.”

“I’ll turn on the TV for you.”

“I don’t want to watch TV.”

“But you want to watch me shower?”

Bakura smirked. “That does sound entertaining, now that I think about it.”

“You’re fucking hopeless.” Marik stripped off his shirt and revealed the rest of his sculpted abs. “I suppose kicking you out wouldn't do any good if you can slip through walls.”

Bakura arched his eyebrows up and down. It was so ridiculous that Marik stopped unbuttoning his pants to double over in laughter.

“You know, you’re the biggest fucking dork I’ve ever met!”

“How many have you met?” Bakura asked with a grin. “Yugi’s gang doesn’t count.”

Marik snorted, taking his time and making a show of lowering his zipper down. He noticed that his little trick worked, and Bakura’s eyes fell to Marik’s hands as he watched with attention undivided. Marik bit his lower lip and swiveled his hips as he hooked his thumbs along the waistband of his pants. Marik rocked side to side, lowering his pants two centimeters at a time.

“You fucking tease,” Bakura hissed.

“I’d let you get on your knees for a closer look, but you’re sort of a ghost at the moment.” Marik dropped his pants to the floor.

“Why should that stop me.” Bakura dropped to his knees.

He looked up at Marik, rust-colored eyes dark and gleaming. Bakura stuck out his tongue and licked Marik’s tip. Marik’s breath hitched. The sight of Bakura on his knees and licking was enough to get Marik hard. Bakura grinned at Marik’s fat, brown cock. He opened his mouth wide and bobbed his head back and forth.

The sight was absurd, Bakura’s wavy image distorting the more solid view of Marik’s own dick. However, the slight, misty sensation from their touching was invigorating against Marik’s hot flesh. It wasn’t enough to make Marik come, but it was an interesting and still erotic feeling. Marik gasped and leaned back.

“Let’s finish this in the shower,” Marik suggested as he reached behind him to turn on the water.

He waited for it to steam before slipping into the shower cubicle. Bakura lifted up his own shirt, trying to pull it over his head, but as soon as he finished the action that should have removed the garment from his body, he looked down to realize it was back in place.

“That’s weird.” Marik laughed.

“Huh, I never tried to undress in spirit form before, so I never realized that I couldn’t.”

“At least you can’t get wet,” Marik said.

“Valid point.”

Bakura walked into the shower with his clothes on and dropped back to his knees. He returned to sliding his ethereal lips back and forth across Marik’s dick. Marik leaned against the shower wall, watching and letting the sight and slight chill turn him on.

“B-Bakura…”

Bakura’s eyes flicked upward to show he was listening to Marik.

“C-can I touch myself? This is driving me crazy.”

Bakura backed up enough to laugh. “Sure. I’m about to find out if a ghost can come.”

Bakura undid his zipper and shoved his hand into his pants. By the way pleasure twisted Bakura’s features, Marik could tell that he was able to stroke himself behind the pants, even if he couldn’t completely take them off. Marik watched Bakura, furious that he couldn’t make Bakura come himself. Bakura muffled a grunt, and Marik couldn’t wait any longer. He grabbed himself and started kneading the tip of his cock with his thumb.

“ _Ah_!” Bakura called out, getting into the moment. His eyes stayed shut as the shower spray passed right through him.

Marik stared at the shape of Bakura’s mouth as he stroked himself. Bakura’s lips were rosy and plush. They would have been moreso had he been able to properly suck Marik’s dick, but even plump with arousal alone, it was still a beautiful sight.

Demanding, almost angry sounding grunts escaped Marik’s mouth the faster he stroked himself. His thigh muscles clenched tightly. He imagined that he could grab Bakura’s hair like marionette strings and shove his cock right between Bakura’s rosy lips. Marik’s cock grew longer, blushing from the hot water and friction of Marik’s palm. He fantasized about spreading Bakura’s legs wide and shoving in so deep that Bakura called out Marik’s name.

“Marik!”

The fact that Bakura actually called out right as Marik imagined it was enough to send come spewing down the drain of the shower. Marik slid down the shower wall and crashed his ass to the tiles even as Bakura writhed, close to his own orgasm.

“Marik! Marik!” Bakura doubled over, shaking a moment before he curled into a ball on his side.

Marik leaned forward, tracing a finger along Bakura’s coral lips.

“Didn’t even touch you and I still got you to call out my name.”

Bakura’s eyes flicked towards Marik’s face. He grinned, ruining Marik’s attempt to trace his lips.

“You’re so gorgeous I’m surprised I didn’t come the second your shirt came off.”

“I’m going to enjoy finding out exactly how dirty our mouths can get in bed.” Marik pushed himself to his feet. “But in order for that to happen, we need to get to Japan.”

“What? No cuddling and pillow talk?” Bakura sat up, pressing his back against the opposite wall and watching Marik since he couldn’t do anything else.

“Are you into that sort of thing?” Marik smirked. “Maybe next time then.”

“Pffff, y-you know I was being facetious.”

“Sure, sure.” Marik laughed as he began searching his scars with lathered, soapy fingers, making sure he scrubbed and rinsed every speck of dust from the old wounds.

After the shower, he had to dry his scars with the same diligence and care as he washed them. After that, he had to rub oil on his back to keep them from drying out. Only then could he dress.

“That’s a lot of work,” Bakura murmured.

“I know. Better than them cracking and bleeding.”

“I’d help if I could.” Bakura turned away.

“Would you?” A soft smile crept across Marik’s face.

“I mean, it’d be quicker if I just did it for you instead of you having to twist yourself into a pretzel in order to reach everywhere.”

“Yeah.” Marik walked around the bed so that he could stare at Bakura. He leaned in, kissing Bakura as best he could. “For the record, if you did help me with my back… I'd really appreciate it.”

C **hapter 2**

The boat rocked as they sailed. Marik and Bakura lay sprawled out on the bed in the Captain’s quarters. Cards scattered across the sheets like confetti scraps on the floor of a New Year’s Eve ball. Marik held up one of them and frowned.

“I don’t get it. When Ishizu said she was giving me Ryou’s cards, I thought she was handing me his entire deck, but these are random. You don’t even have your destiny board.”

“She only gave us Ryou’s favorite cards.” Bakura picked up one. “Change of Heart was his favorite.” He set the card down and took another. “We both loved Dark Necrofear.” Then Bakura took a third card and frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“This… isn’t Ryou’s card.” Bakura sat up, staring. “This is mine. This was my ka.”

“What?” Marik sat up, tilting his head to the side and looking at Bakura.

“Diabound.” Bakura flipped the card so that Marik could see the creature painted and laminated on paper. “This shouldn’t be a card. They never captured Diabound into a stone slab, so Pegasus couldn’t have seen the image to make a card out of it.”

“I’ve seen that creature. On a papyrus talking about demons.”

“Oh fuck the pharaohs, the priests, and the tomb-keepers.” Bakura placed Diabound back into the copper box. “At least he’s an eight star card. I would have screamed if he was lower. I fought off all the priests at once with Diabound.”

“So… you were _that_ thief.”

“Heard of me?” Bakura arched an eyebrow.

“There was no ren of that thief in the record books, but of course there wouldn't be. They didn’t want your soul to survive.” Marik winked. “You were the boogie man the old women in the tomb would whisper about to make the lower caste children behave. You should talk to Rishid. I bet he remembers some of the stories.”

“You don’t?”

“I do. Not enough to retell them…I don’t really trust my memories.” Marik shook his head. “Dissociation is a bitch.”

“Were you afraid? Of the stories?”

“No, I was fascinated.” Marik winked, and Bakura looked pleased with himself. Marik grazed his fingers across the image of Bakura’s hair. “I always imagined what it’d be like, if the infamous Thief King broke into our tomb.” Marik laughed. “I wanted you to rescue me and take me away.”

“Really?” Bakura’s face turned a little more serious.

“And the funny thing is, you sort of did. Rescue me, I mean. You helped me fight my other half when I needed help. I didn’t know who you were, not back then, but now… holy shit.” Marik started laughing. “Isn’t that crazy?”

“Turn _that_ into a story.” Bakura laughed. “I can finally be the hero in my own fucking story for once.”

“You know what? Let’s do it.”

“Write down my life’s story?” Bakura asked with a sardonic tone.

Marik scooped up his and Bakura’s cards, tossing them in the air and making it rain.

“Let’s use the cards. We’ll pick cards that remind us of what we’ve been through and use those to fight Atem and Yugi- even if the deck’s a piece of crap.”

“A deck with our life stories would definitely be a piece of crap.” Bakura shot Marik with his finger. Then he reached out and touched Change of Heart. “Fuck it. Let’s do it. We can’t win with skill against the Pharaoh. Maybe if our deck sucks enough we can confuse him into fucking up- get that 1000 life point spread that I’m hoping for.”

“Look, here’s Gravekeeper’s Heretic. That’s fitting for you, and the Gravekeeper’s Descendant would be me.”

“Here, add Contract With The Dark Master, and Dark Master Zorc to our deck as well, and Diabound.”

“Here’s that trap card Rishid gave me, I’ll add that as well.”

“Too bad you don’t have Ra. Think the Pharaoh will let us borrow it?”

“If only.” Marik scanned the other cards scattered across the bed. “But, honestly, that was my other half’s card more than it ever was mine.” Marik snatched a up Nightmare’s Steelcage, Necrovalley, and Metal Reflect Slime. “These are definitely going in, though.”

They kept grabbing two or three cards at a time until they had enough to form two barely functional peasant decks from their selected cards. Both decks were a hodgepodge mess of their favorites, or cards that made them think of all their anger, their pain, their lives-

And each other...

“Want to play? For practice?” Marik asked.

“Considering we can’t tear each other’s clothes off and fuck each other senseless, I suppose a card game _would_ be the next practical solution.” Bakura started to shuffle. “I’m not using Contract With The Dark Master though. In practice games, or the final game. I thought you should know that before we played against the Pharaoh so it doesn’t mess up your strategy.”

“That’s good to know, but why put it in your deck at all if you’re not going to use it? And I can’t imagine you _not_ using a combo that powerful.”

“He’d just summon Horakhty and kill me.” Bakura shook his head. “That’s how he stopped me last time, and you know the Pharaoh draws the cards he wants to.” Bakura sighed, toying with his cards. “I put in those cards to remind me of the past, but…maybe Ishizu was right, maybe it was the wrong way to get justice- don’t tell her I said that.”

Marik laughed. “Trust me, I know that feeling. I won’t say a word to her.”

“Wait.” Bakura stopped fidgeting with his deck, frowning down at them. “How the fuck can I touch the cards but nothing else?”

He reached over for a bottle of water sitting on a stand near Marik’s bed, but his hand went through it.

“I guess it’s because we’re going to fight the Pharaoh. You need to be able to hold your cards.”

“Well if the Pharaoh has the power to let me hold cards, he could have made _you_ tangible as well. Damn, if my soul’s about to be cat chow for Ammit, at least I could have gotten laid first.”

“Just laid?” Marik found a coin in his pocket to use for a coin toss. “Call it.”

“Heads.”

“Yes, you would call head.” Marik caught the coin. “But it looks like I’m getting tail instead.”

“That is the worst euphemism I’ve ever heard in my life, and you should feel badly for saying it.”

“You know bad word play gets you rock hard,” Marik teased, setting a card face down and ending his turn.

“Maybe.” Bakura smirked, doing the same as Marik had done.

“You never answered my question.”

“Which one?”

“Just laid?” Marik set down another card. “Is that all you wanted? A quick lay?”

“Of course not. I like my sex to be like my card games.”

“Tedious?” Marik interrupted.

“Slow and passionate.”

“I…that _is_ how you play. I’m going to laugh my ass off during our duel with the Pharaoh.”

“New rule, add ‘in bed’ at the end of each phase.”

“We have the wrong deck for that game,” Marik said. “We’d need Lord of D.”

“Fancy yourself the Lord of D, do you Marik?”

“It was the first card I thought of!”

“Mmmm-hmmm. I believe that’s called a Freudian Slip.”

“Like you could do better with card game innuendo. Besides, I’m going to attack you for 500 LP.”

“No you won’t.” Bakura flipped a trap card to reveal Mirror Force. “Cards that can be dirty … Beaver Warrior, Dark Eruption, Rapid Fire Magician, Bottomless Trap Hole-”

“Ah yes, I’m sure that last one is your favorite.”

“Wonder Wand, Magical Explosion, And Obelisk the Tormentor.”

Marik laughed louder which each suggestion. “You get a point deduction for the last one.”

“Why?”

“It made me think of Seto.”

“Well, I can’t help it if you’re thinking of Seto tormenting his obelisk.”

“Dammit, I am now. What the hell, Bakura?”

They both turned red with laughter. It was like they were drunk on each other’s company and dirty jokes alone.

“It’s not fair,” Marik said. “You’re blushing so hard. I should be able brush my thumb against your cheek and feel how warm it is.”

“A little bit of pink is showing through on your face too, so don’t think your complexion is saving you.”

Marik looked down at his hand. “I have no idea what card I was going to play.”

“Getting distracted are you?” Bakura bit his bottom lip.

“Is this why we always lose?”

“I don’t remember ever having this much fun playing a card game.” Bakura looked at Marik. “Um… is it still your turn?”

“I think so.”

“Well hurry up. I want to hurry up and win so I can watch you take off your clothes again.”

“Oh?” Marik asked. “Is it D-Time?”

They both doubled over laughing again. Marik wiped tears out of his eyes and Bakura buried his face into a pillow.

“Did I say slow and passionate? Apparently I meant drawn out and ridiculous.”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad way. To have sex, I mean.” Marik giggled into his hand.

“I’d give it a try,” Bakura answered. “Sloppy and fun sounds good, too.”

“Quick and clumsy.”

“Eager and-” Bakura stopped himself, staring down at his cards.

“What were you going to say?” Marik asked, placing another Gravekeeper card on his side of the field and attacking.

“Nothing.” This time Bakura took the damage.

“You’re lying.”

“Of course that was a lie. I clearly don’t want to play the word game anymore. Focus on our card game instead.”

“Tell me.”

“I’d want … I’d want it to be nice.” Bakura looked away again, resting his cards in his lap.

Marik wondered if it was because his hands didn’t feel steady- Marik’s own hands didn’t. Something about Bakura’s reluctance and his serious tone made Marik’s heart flutter in his chest, and it was hard to breathe when his heart felt so dizzy.

“It’d be my first time,” Bakura muttered.

“Mine too,” Marik said. “It’s your turn.”

Bakura destroyed Marik’s Gravekeeper and did 300 damage before ending his turn.

“I would try to make it nice,” Bakura said again. “If we could do it at all. I would kiss you, and hold you close, and…” Bakura stopped again; Marik was sure it was because he was too flustered thinking about it.

“Yeah, I talk big, but really, I’d want it nice, too,” Marik confessed.

“It doesn’t matter. We can’t, so it doesn’t matter.”

“I think it matters,” Marik argued. “That we’re admitting what we’d really want. I’m usually not so honest, even to myself.”

Bakura snorted a dry laugh, not the same as their earlier, joyful burst of laughter. Marik could tell that the noise was a coping reflex instead of a proper expression.

“More we talk, the more we have in common.” His cards slipped out of his lap. “I guess it’s because I know my soul will probably be destroyed by the end of all this. It’s too late for pretenses at this point.”

Marik dropped his cards into the copper box.

“What are you doing, Marik?”

“Game was fun, but I can’t remember whose turn it was anymore.”

“It was… damn, you’re right.” Bakura handed over his cards as well.

Marik stowed everything and secured it so that it wouldn’t fall if they sailed through choppy waters. Then he tossed his clothes to the floor.

“You know how else I’d want it? Sweet and gentle.”

Bakura’s eyes dilated as Marik strolled back towards the bed with slow, deliberate movements. His mouth hung slack, and then he shook his head to clear his thoughts.

“Uh- soft and affectionate.” Bakura looked like he wanted to look away again, but couldn’t, not as Marik leaned in and teased their lips together.

“Tender,” Marik spoke against their lips, his breath going through Bakura instead of reflecting off of his face. “And attentive.”

“I… good, and, and… I think I just forgot every other word I knew.” Bakura lay back on the bed, beckoning Marik closer again with a lidded stare.

“Talk is cheap. We’re men of action.” Marik’s nose wrinkled up in an honest smile. “So show me, Bakura.”

Bakura reached up, breezing his touch over Marik’s face. They moved slow, as if underwater, in order to match their touches together without falling through each other. Marik should have been between Bakura’s legs, but instead of the delightful weight and pressure of their groins pressing together, Marik felt only the mattress and a mild chill.

That didn’t stop each kiss from feeling like Marik’s first taste of fresh air out of the tomb. He rolled onto his side so they could lay face-to-face and run their hands up and down each other’s bodies.

“Lift up your shirt,” Marik ordered.

Bakura pulled the material up around his nipples, and Marik smoothed his fingers up and down Bakura’s white, transparent skin with just enough pressure to feel the chill of Bakura against Marik’s warm fingertips.

“Undo your pants.”

Bakura followed the second order as quickly as the first, and Marik teased the triangle of skin exposed. Bakura managed to shift his pants around his knees. Marik smoothed his fingers up the shaft of Bakura’s erect cock, and Bakura did the same for Marik’s.

They stayed slow and easy in their caresses, but then Marik couldn’t take it anymore, and he finally grabbed himself. Bakura mirrored him and they breathed nothing into each other’s faces and stared into each other’s eyes as they began touching themselves.

“Would you moan if I was inside you?”

“Just thinking about it makes me want to moan.” Bakura gasped, struggling to keep his eyes open. He did moan, soft and quiet against Marik’s mouth. Then he moaned a second time, longer, more desperate.

“Then think about me tilting your face back and kissing your throat,” Marik whispered.

Bakura threw his head back, moaning loudly now and stroking with more passion. Marik leaned forward and touched his lips to Bakura’s adam’s apple.

“Then I’d move up to your lips.” Marik shifted up to make good on his words, but he couldn't properly kiss Bakura because his mouth was open and he kept calling out between gasps of non-existent breath.

“Marik!”

“Bakura.”

Bakura clutched at Marik's shoulder, slipping through him. He tried to wrap his calf around Marik's waist, but failed again. He reached for Marik's hair, and Marik gasped at the shiver that ran up his spine.

“The gods are cruel,” Bakura cried out. He dug the nails of his free hand into a spare pillow, but he made no impression into the silk pillowcase. His other hand continued to work his shaft like he'd die if he didn't touch himself in Marik's stead.

“Then worship me instead of the gods,” Marik growled into Bakura's hair, frustrated that they couldn't taste or touch or hold one another.

“Marik!”

“Yes, Bakura.”

“You'd feel so good inside me! You'd feel so hot!”

“Bakura. Bakura! Make me come with your words.”

“You'd thrust until I couldn't take it! You'd bite my nipples until I screamed. You'd fuck me senseless! You'd-”

“Bakura! Bakura! _Hayati_!” Marik splashed onto the bedsheets, missing Bakura only because he was ethereal.

“You'd kiss- ah- and touch- ahh- fuck- I'm coming!”

Bakura's semen landed on top of Marik's. Their spunk overlapped in the same way their bodies did and, a moment later, Bakura's come faded out of existence.

Marik watched with a sleepy, hazy mind. He stroked Bakura's hair, but his hands were tired and heavy and he kept slipping through.

“And afterward we'd lock fingers and press noses and I'd have to hold my breath because it'd be so good that I wouldn't be able to believe that it was happening,” Bakura said in a low, quiet voice. “Not to me.”

“I’d feel the same way,” Marik said. “That's why I know we're going to lose. Winning is too good to be true. The Heart of the Cards is a lie.” He looked at Bakura. “Because if it were real, we'd win. I want you with me far more than the gods want you destroyed.”

“I'm glad he gave us three days.” Bakura closed his eyes. “I hate that bastard so much, but at least I'm here with you now.”

“Look, I don't think you're giving us enough credit,” Marik said.

“Really? You think we can win?”

“With that awful deck we made? Gods no, we're screwed.”

Bakura laughed.

Marik kissed his scrunched up nose, smiling as he watched Bakura.

“But we're much better than a 1,000 life point spread. We can get that asshole within 500.”

“As long as we lose in style, I suppose.”

“We'll lose laughing like fiends- making sex jokes as we crash straight into hell.”

“That's exactly how I always wanted to go.” Bakura's laughter simmered into a smile. They reached out and drew each other's features until Marik fell asleep.

** Chapter 3 **

Marik and Bakura stood side by side in the street while looking up at the sign. Their hands overlapped as they tried to steal what comfort they could from each other despite not being able to touch.

“It's much bigger than the old one,” Bakura said.

“Naturally. Being King of Games would be good for business.”

“I did say I wanted to lose in style. At least the last thing I see on earth won't be peeling wallpaper.”

They walked inside. The entire building was a maze of games and game-related paraphernalia. Hands-on displays were scattered on tables and in nooks with sofas and chairs. It wasn't only a place to buy games, it was a place to play them with friends. They expected the store to be bursting with customers, but there wasn't a single person inside.

“What's up with the ghost-town vibe?” Bakura asked.

“You couldn't choose a better term to use?” Marik gave him an annoyed look.

“Wait until our duel when I’m screaming ‘sorry, Yugi, but you don’t stand a _ghost_ of a chance’ and then laugh like a complete asshole. It’ll be great.”

Yugi popped his head out from behind a gaming shelf, a huge smile on his face.

“If I had 100 yen every time someone’s said that line to me, I’d be half as rich as Kaiba.”

“We were wondering where you were.” Marik looked around. “And where everyone else is?”

“Oh, I closed the game store today for our Duel.” Yugi gave them a sheepish grin.

“You didn’t have to go through all that trouble,” Marik said.

“Oh, it’s no trouble. I’ve had fun catching up with Atem. I really should be thanking you guys. Because of this, I’ve gotten to spend three entire days with him.”

“Yeah.” Bakura glanced at Marik who glanced back. “Who knew how much fun people could have in three days?” He sighed.

“Are you okay?” Yugi asked.

“Oh peachy. Let’s fucking get this over with. Marik and I are betting on a 500 point spread.”

“Really? You think you’ll beat us by that much?” Yugi gestured for them to follow him.

“Please tell me you’re being a smart ass,” Bakura muttered, but he wasn’t really focused on the conversation.

His eyes flittered from gaming shelf to gaming shelf. The only time they wandered was when they settled on Marik’s face. In those moments, a sad, unsure smile would skip across Bakura’s face only to vanish a moment later.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m going to try to win. Atem’s told me how important it is to make sure we play our best against you.” Yugi glanced over his shoulder, grinning at both Marik and Bakura. “But I have a feeling the Heart of the Cards is going to be on your side today.”

“You haven’t seen our deck.” Marik smirked. “It’ll take more than the Heart of the Cards for us to win this game.”

They went into a large room that served as a miniature dueling arena. Atem sat on a basic folding chair as if it were a throne.

“More than the Heart of the Cards? Damn, I knew I should have brought a knife. Think I could make a god bleed?” Bakura winked at Marik.

“I’m going to ignore that,” Atem said from his folding, metal throne. “But keep in mind that this is a Sacred Duel, a way to weigh your soul. If you try to hurt Yugi or myself in any way-”

“I was being sarcastic, fuckface!” Bakura slapped his forehead.

“I want to make the rules clear.”

“I know how this works!” Bakura gnashed his teeth. “It’s a Shadow Game with a prettier name to make you sound better than the rest of us.”

“There’s no use explaining to you.” Atem shook his head, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’d only argue.”

Marik leaned close to Bakura’s ear, whispering, “See? I’m not the only one that calls you out for being argumentative.”

“ _Sacred Duel_ is still a lipstick-on-a-pig way to say Mother-Fucking-Shadow-Game.” Bakura crossed his own arms over his chest, a twisted mimic of Atem.

“It doesn't really matter what it’s called.” Yugi smiled and stood beside Atem. “What’s important is who wins, right? Isn’t that why you’re both here?”

“Fair point,” Marik said.

They stood on opposite sides of the room. Below them lay a rug shaped like a playmat. In front of each team stood a small table with an actual playmat on top.

“Usually we’d use Duel Disks.” Yugi turned to Atem and smiled. “But this time we shouldn’t have to.”

Bakura leaned close to Marik. “Because it’s a Shadow Game.”

Marik covered his mouth with his hand to stifle a chuckle.

“Bakura, please take this seriously.” Yugi sighed.

“Oh yes, because nothing says _serious_ like playing a card game.”

“You know it’s deeper than that.”

“Actually,” Marik cut in before Bakura could say anything else. “We do.”

He shuffled their cards and walked over to Yugi’s table so they could cut each other’s decks and roll a die to see who went first. Marik rolled a six, so he and Bakura would play first. When Marik stood back on his side of the table he drew five cards and looked at them. Bakura leaned over his shoulder. It was the opposite of their duel in Battle City. Now Marik had his body, and Bakura was a spirit beside him. Marik and Bakura both looked at their cards, and then at each other with matching, wistful smiles.

“That’s why-” Bakura began.

“Our deck tells a story,” Marik finished for him. “We’ll summon Gravekeeper’s Commandant and place him in the Graveyard in order to use his ability to put Necrovalley into our hand. Then we’ll set two cards face down and end our turn.”

Yugi nodded. “We’ll set down Beta Warrior, use his ability to get Alpha Magnet Warrior into our hand, and set a single card face down before ending our turn.”

As Yugi spoke, Beta Warrior materialized on Yugi’s side of the field. The creature hovered in the air, waiting. Bakura had to give Kaiba Corp credit, it was difficult to tell the difference between the holograms and the real versions.

Bakura drew a card, if for no other reason than because he _could_ draw it even when everything else slipped through his fingers. He displayed the card for Marik to see, and he nodded. When Marik reached for the card to place it in their hand, there was a moment where Bakura and Marik both held the same card at the same time. They paused, as if realizing that this was the closest they could get to actually touching. Both their eyes lifted up so that they stared into each other’s faces, and the rest of the world disappeared.

“Guys?”

They didn’t hear Yugi speaking.

“Hey guys?”

Marik’s eyes darted across the room for an instant before sighing and pulling the card away from Bakura.

“We’ll place in attack position Doll of Demise and then use Pot of Greed to draw-”

“Don’t say it.” Bakura rolled his eyes.

“I’m just explaining-”

“I know, but, don’t you ever get sick of hearing it over and over? We’re all fucking nerds, let’s just get this over with.”

“You’d think you’d want to drag this game out- it might be your last moments to ever exist.”

“As much as I’d rather spend my last hours on Earth arguing with you, I’m sick and tired of having to look at the Pharaoh’s face and I’d rather just hurry along to oblivion.” Bakura started pacing three steps left and right.

“We’re done.” Marik sighed, looking annoyed.

Atem nodded. “For our turn, we’ll-”

“Use Beta to summon Gamma and then Special Summon Berserkion,” Bakura snapped, pivoting on his foot to glare at Atem. “It’s obvious. Didn’t I just say hurry this fucking shit-show up?”

“Bakura, calm down,” Yugi pleaded.

“I’m about to get dragged in front of the Tribunal and fed to a monster.” Bakura stopped pacing and stared at Yugi, his hands clenched into fists. “Do not tell me to calm down.”

“Don’t you have any faith in yourself?” Yugi asked. “Marik didn’t challenge Atem to lose- did you Marik?”

“I challenged Atem because I got overwhelmed and panicked and it was the quickest, most assured way to avoid the problem for the time being.” Marik pressed his lips together, angry at how his disassociating habits still haunted him. “But now my repreve is over and we have to face the inevitable.”

“That wasn’t the only reason,” Atem said as he stood by Yugi. “Had that been the only reason I would have never agreed, but three days ago, I saw it in your eyes- determination. You wanted to protect Bakura with the entirety of your soul. That’s why we’re playing this duel, and as long as your bond with each other is stronger than the gods’ desire to weigh his heart then you’ll win this game.”

“Don’t try to sell me that _intent is more powerful than skill_ crap. I know it’s not true.” Marik grit his teeth. His hold on his cards was controlled enough not to damage them, but still tight as he struggled to keep rein over his emotions.

“Why do you say that, Marik?” Yugi asked.

“Because if it were true Bakura and I would have never lost against my other half. There’s no way he wanted to destroy the world more than I wanted to protect my siblings! I’m not going to pretend that we were heroes, but for _that one game_ we were fighting for the right reasons.”

“Wait…” Yugi blinked, thinking. “You mean Bakura _helped_ you fight your other half? Is that how the other Marik got ahold of the Ring? I’d always thought he fought your other half because he was just trying to get the Rod.”

“I was!” Bakura shouted.

“Sure you were.” Marik smiled.

“And let’s not forget…” Bakura’s expression softened as he looked at Marik. “I was also trying to get you out of your shirt.”

“Hmmm, my shirt? Are you sure it was my shirt?” Marik hooked a thumb into his belt loop and tugged at his pants suggestively.

Bakura arched his eyebrows, forgetting about his impatience as he watched Marik tease him.

“Maybe it wasn’t you who lost that game,” Atem suggested.

“What do you mean?” Marik forced his gaze away from Bakura to glance at Atem.

“Your other self wanted to destroy everyone. You wanted to protect your family.” Atem’s royal purple eyes shifted over to Bakura. “What about you?”

“Of course I wanted to win. I’d get the Rod.” Bakura bit the inside of his cheek and toed at the rug below his feet.

“And there was no reason you might have secretly wanted to lose?” Atem smirked.

“I don’t know what you’re accusing Bakura of,” Marik said, “but be blunt about it. He won’t take a hint.”

“I’m not sure.” Atem shrugged. His body language was so casual that it was insulting. “I only know that Shadow Games reveal the truth about people.”

Marik shook his head. “I’m not sure what truth that game could have possibly-”

“You would have died,” Bakura muttered, his eyes glued to the carpet.

“Bakura?” Marik looked at him as if Bakura were a mess of tea leaves at the bottom of Marik’s saucer- something that Marik could use to read his future if only he knew how.

“I told you back then, there are ways I like to win and ways I don’t like to win.”

“But you needed to win to get the Rod and you needed the Rod to avenge your village.”

“It didn't matter if I won or lost. You’d already explained that the Items weren’t enough on their own, and I knew I wasn’t going to get the secret on your back no matter what. If we lost I'd be destroyed, but if we’d won, your body would have been destroyed, so I chose the option that still gave you a slim chance.”

“I told you I didn't care if my body was destroyed!” Marik’s voice rose, not a scream, but a noticeable increase.

“So what? I guess I cared. You would have died,” Bakura repeated, flicking up his rust colored eyes to look at Marik. “That didn’t sit right in the pit of my stomach.”

Marik set down his hand.

“Bakura … are you saying you wanted to lose … to keep me alive? That that's the real reason we lost against my dark half?”

“Maybe?” Bakura shrugged. “I wasn’t really thinking about it at the time- it's hard to stop and think when you’re simultaneously possessing a host while being manipulated by a dark god, but- like I said- it didn’t sit right with me, you dying.” He shrugged again, like a record skipping body language instead of sound. “I figured even if we lost that game but your body was still intact, your other half would lose against Yugi and then you might be able to regain control of yourself.”

“Bakura.” Marik tried to embrace Bakura. He lassoed his arms around Bakura’s body and growled when he slipped right through.

“Fuck!” Marik crushed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth.

He slammed both palms on the card table and picked his hand back up. His face was hard-set, jaw tight, eyes brighter than ignited sulfur.

“Bakura, listen and don't you dare argue. If you can play for me, even when a demon was manipulating you, then I can play for you now, and if you can lose for me, even at the cost of your own soul getting sent to the Shadow Realm, then I’ll _win_ for you now.”

“Let's see what you got, then. Don't forfeit this time.” A faint grin flicked across Bakura's face.

Marik focused on the playing field. “So Yugi, are you going to attack with Berserkion? Or are you ending your Battle Phase?”

“We’re going to attack.” Yugi nodded, a huge grin on his face. “I'm glad to see you're serious now.”

It was a long game.

Both teams were low on their decks to the point that it looked like the team that ran out of cards first would probably be defeated based on mere technicality.

“Not like this,” Bakura murmured, hands clenched into fists. “What a stupid way to lose after we've played all this time.”

“I'm not giving up until the last damn card is drawn,” Marik said.

He sounded determined, but sweat rolled down his neck. They only had three cards left to draw. They’d lost Necrovalley and any Gravekeepers in their deck. They’d gotten ahead with Dark Necrofear, but she’d been sent to the Graveyard rounds ago.

“We draw!” Atem shouted, as if he wasn't as exhausted as the rest of them, and perhaps he wasn't. Why would gods ever tire? He looked at them, grinning more like a demon than a god as he turned over the card. “First we’ll use Dark Magic Veil to bring back our Dark Magician from the Graveyard.”

“Yes!” Bakura cheered, holding up his hand to hi-five Marik and then wincing when he realized that the action was impossible.

It didn’t stop Marik from bringing his hand up carefully in order to imitate the gesture.

“Why are you happy about that?” Yugi asked. “We’re going to kill your last monster on the field and bring you down to 500 life points.”

“Yes,” Bakura agreed, “but Dark Magic Veil requires you to pay 1,000 life points, which will bring you down to 300, which means we’ll make the 500 point spread.”

“That won’t save your soul if you lose.” Atem gave them a stern look.

“But we’ll beat the spread,” Bakura repeated, as if that’d somehow make Atem understand.

“But that doesn’t make any sense!”

“Atem, please declare your attack.” Marik shut his eyes. “We can argue after the game.”

Dark Magician killed their last monster, bringing them down to 500 LP.

“We’re not done,” Atem said, revealing another spell card. “Dragged Down Into The Grave.”

“Fuck,” Marik hissed between clenched teeth.

“Apt.” Bakura’s face was transparent, but he somehow looked paler than normal.

Marik flipped his hand to show it to Atem, and Yugi did the same for them.

“Which card do you want us to discard?” Yugi asked.

“Hand Destruction, of course,” Marik answered.

Dragged Down Into The Grave would already force them to draw a card, and then they’d have to draw another for their turn, leaving them only one last card before they lost. With Hand Destruction’s effect of drawing two more cards after discarding two, Yugi and Atem would have the game their next turn.

“Okay.” Yugi nodded. “Atem, which card do we want them to discard?”

Atem smirked. “They still have a spell or trap card on the field, and looking at their hand, I bet the card is Contract With The Dark Master. They plan on sacrificing Diabound to bring back Zorc.”

“Hmm… probably.” Yugi nodded. “Okay, please discard Dark Master Zorc, Marik.”

“As you wish.” Marik gave a little bow, and then both teams drew a card.

“And that ends our turn,” Atem said. Then his eyes narrowed. “Why do you both look so happy?”

“We still have a chance.” Marik drew a card to begin their turn. “You failed to guess our strategy.”

“What do you mean?” Atem looked shocked.

“Didn’t we tell you at the beginning?” Marik asked.

“Our deck tells a story,” Bakura finished.

“Hadn’t you noticed most of our cards? Gravekeepers and possessed dolls? Scorched-earth-like spell cards that destroy everything out of desperation? This whole time, we’ve been telling _our_ story.” Marik’s face was grave, giving away nothing of his next move.

“And Zorc was part of that story.” Bakura’s face was a perfect match to Marik’s, stoic and calm. “I’ve never tried to make excuses for my actions. Whether it was robbing tombs, stealing the Ring, or merging with Zorc, I’ve always had my reasons, my means to an end- the end of you.” Bakura’s mask cracked and the corners of his mouth dropped in a mild frown. “But now that I’m free from the Ring’s influence… I think Zorc was a mistake. I should have fought you on my own terms, with my own resolve, and that’s exactly what Marik and I planned to do today- fight with our own wills, no god cards, no demons, _us_.”

“And that’s why we’ll use the trap card Rishid gave me.” Marik flipped over their last face down card. “Relay Soul. We can use this to Special Summon Diabound from our hand to the field.”

“That’s no good.” Yugi shook his head. “He still doesn’t have enough attack points to kill the Dark Magician, and if we get rid of Diabound after being summoned by Relay Soul, then we automatically win the game.”

“You saw our hand, but you didn’t see the card I drew at the beginning of my turn.” Marik flicked his fingers and revealed the card.

“Mask of Brutality.” Bakura grinned. “More than enough to kill your Dark Magician and take away your last 300 life points.”

“You're right, and you've won. Well done.” Atem beamed.

“We knew you could do it!” Yugi cheered and clapped his hands.

“Why are _you_ assholes happy?” Bakura scowled.

“Just because we were trying to beat you, doesn’t mean we weren’t cheering you on.” Yugi ran across the room and gave Marik a hug.

Marik looked confused, but tolerated the action. Yugi let go and bowed low to Bakura since hugging him would have been useless.

“With this game, you’ve proven that there is light in your heart, Bakura,” Atem said.

“I have proven no such thing, Pharaoh.”

“Have you not? You confessed to fighting Marik’s other half knowing that you wouldn't benefit either way, and you ultimately sacrificed yourself to give Marik another chance to live. And just now, from your own lips, you admitted that merging with the darkness wasn’t the right way to fight.” Atem walked over to them. He shook Marik’s hand, bowing his head. “Marik, you fought well, and bravely.”

“Th-thanks?” Marik stared at Atem like he was a viper, but gave his hand a firm shake.

Atem turned to Bakura, offering his hand again.

Bakura stared at it, and if Marik had looked at Atem’s hand as if it were a viper, Bakura looked at it as if it were Ammit herself. After a moment Bakura rolled his eyes, lowered his crossed arms, and took Atem’s hand. The moment their hands clasped, however, the Eye of Ra on Atem’s forehead glowed fierce gold, blinding everyone.

Marik shielded his eyes, his heart racing in fear that the Pharaoh had somehow tricked them and never planned on letting Bakura go. But when he lowered his hands, Marik realized that Bakura was solid and breathing- alive.

“Bakura!” Marik’s voice cracked with emotion and he threw his arms around Bakura and tackled him to the rug below.

“Ufff, get off me, Marik. I can’t- oh fuck! I’m solid!” Bakura locked his arms around Marik’s waist and pulled him closer although Marik’s weight felt like it was crushing his chest. “Kiss me!”

“Damn right I will!” Marik cheered, smashing his mouth against Bakura’s.

It wasn't how he’d wanted to kiss Bakura. There was nothing seductive or suave in the action, simply both their mouths pressing hard and desperate against each other for fear of Bakura disappearing back to the ether once again. Yet just the fact that they were kissing- and kissing and kissing and kissing- had them too joyous to kiss any other way but haphazardly.

** Epilogue **

After saying obligatory goodbyes and restocking their ship with supplies, Marik and Bakura left Japan as quickly as possible. Even inside the cabin, the lulling rock of waves made Marik feel connected to the outside world. It was one of the reasons he enjoyed sailing and didn’t mind the small room despite the lack of space.

They’d finished dinner several hours ago, and played gin rummy- any card game except Duel Monsters, both of them agreed- and now Marik sat cross legged on his bed with Bakura resting his head in Marik’s lap. Marik’s thoughts rocked back and forth in his head with the same lazy and calm rhythm as the ship. His fingers stroked through Bakura’s hair, and a radio played in the background.

“I’m still a little shocked we won.” Bakura snickered, his eyes closed as Marik combed his hair.

“I’m sure they threw the game somehow just to prove the Heart of the Cards is a thing,” Marik teased and they both chuckled. “Um, Bakura?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to give you something.” Marik’s fingers pulled out of his hair.

“Really? What is it?” Bakura rolled over so he could open his eyes and give Marik a sleepy, bedroom stare.

Marik exhaled. He raised his hands, lost his nerve, lowered them, and then in a quick motion pulled off his left shoulder bangle and slipped it onto Bakura’s left arm instead. Bakura’s face sobered as he sat up and pulled off his shirt in order to admire the gold next to his skin.

“Hmmm, how’d you know gold was my favorite?”

Marik snorted, glancing at anything in the room that wasn’t Bakura.

“You know I’m going to have to go back to some of my old haunts once we’re back in Egypt and see if any of my stolen treasures are still in their hiding places.”

“Only if you let me look everything over first and make sure there’s nothing important in your stash that belongs in a museum.” Marik finally found the nerve to look at Bakura again, smiling with his old confidence. “And you have to share. I happen to look marvelous in stolen jewelry.”

“I can’t wait to see just how marvelous.” Bakura grinned, but then his face grew bright coral. “I picked up a little gift for the both of us, but compared to this, mine seems really trashy now.”

“Show it to me anyway.” Marik’s grin morphed from confident to excited. He bit his bottom lip.

Bakura slipped his thumb and forefinger into his jeans pocket and pulled out a small bottle of lube. Marik threw his head back to laugh.

“You’re right! That _is_ trashy by comparison.”

“Well, there’s been a lot of that good talk between us the last three days.” Bakura popped the lube open with his thumb. “Was it just talk? Or were you planning to do some of the things you’ve been making me scream into your ears.”

“Oh gods.” Marik rubbed his face with both hands, still smiling. “I’m getting hard just _thinking_ about it.”

“Soooo…” Bakura danced the bottle of lube in the air between them, tempting Marik to grab and use it.

“Close that damn bottle and set it down.” Marik stood up and dropped his pants to the ground. “I don’t want it to spill before we actually need it.”

Bakura listened and closed the bottle before fighting his way out of his own pants. Once they were both naked, they looked at each other.

“Um…” Bakura toyed with his own hair.

“I, uh…” Marik reached over his shoulder to scratch at his wings.

“Should you be scratching them?” Bakura frowned.

“Oh fuck you. You sound like Ishizu.”

“Ew, don't bring her name up when we're sitting here naked.”

“You know I live with my siblings, right? If you're going to stay with me, they'll be in the house.”

“Yeah but, I…never thought that far ahead because I thought we were going to lose.”

“Yeah.” Marik sat down on the bed beside Bakura. “You never were good with planning.” Marik grinned, poking Bakura's chest.

“Winging it has worked pretty well for me so far.” Bakura shot at Marik with his finger.

His hand dropped and they gave each other a serious look. Then, drawn by some unspoken cue, they both leaned closer together. Bakura's hands lifted up before settling on Marik's copper shoulders.

Hesitant, they drew their faces close and hovered for a moment as they worked out which way they both should lean to avoid bumping their noses together. Marik parted his lips and Bakura shut his eyes. Their lips touched, soft and tentative. Marik reached up and tucked a swash of white, foam-colored hair behind Bakura's ear.

“Marik,” Bakura whispered.

“How do you want to do this?”

“I, uh, _nnnn_.”

“That's my favorite position.” Marik nodded his head.

“Shut up, you damn dork.” Bakura flashed a crooked grin at Marik before looking him up and down. “Let's…like this, maybe?”

Bakura crawled into Marik's lap, facing him. He wrapped his legs around Marik's waist and pressed their noses together.

“I can look at you the whole time this way.”

“And I can hold you.” Marik pulled them a little closer.

The second time they kissed, both of them closed their eyes. They felt each other out with their lips. Marik slipped his tongue into Bakura's mouth and Bakura exhaled through his nose. Bakura broke their kiss in order to catch his breath. They brushed their noses back and forth and their grins overtook their faces. Bakura reached up and smoothed his palm along Marik’s cheek. His hand paused and then cupped Marik’s face. Marik sighed and leaned into the action.

“This is exactly what I hoped you’d do when I brought you back.”

“It’s exactly what I’ve been wanting to do.” Bakura leaned in again to kiss Marik.

Marik dragged his fingers down and then back up Bakura’s back. His fingers caught the tips of Bakura’s long mane and he combed out the tangles he made. All the while Bakura pressed his lips against Marik’s. They kneaded their mouths together, breaking to gasp or moan and then plunging back at each other. Bakura pulled away to kiss along Marik’s jawline and Marik dropped his head and worked against Bakura’s pale throat.

At first his kisses were gentle, endearing, but Bakura’s breathing started to quicken, and his fingers grew impatient as they massaged little circles against Marik’s biceps. The more Bakura reacted, the more urgent Marik felt. He dragged his lips along Bakura’s pulse and then started sucking. A desperate, pleading sound escaped Bakura’s throat, so Marik sucked harder and Bakura threw his head back in order to present his entire throat to Marik. Bakura’s fingers dug deeper into Marik’s arm. The slightest scrape of fingernails brushed against Marik’s skin and made Marik tremble.

“If anticipation could make someone come, I'd be creaming myself already.”

“Poetic.” Marik dragged his lips up Bakura's throat and kissed below his jaw.

“Only the best for you.” Bakura snorted an embarrassed laugh. He hid his face in Marik's hair, whispering, “ _Let me do the sweetest things to you. My precious sweet, let me bring you honey. In the bedchamber dripping with honey let us enjoy over and over your sweet allure_.”

Marik sighed, near groaned, at Bakura’s words and kissed Bakura’s throat with more fervor. Bakura rocked forward so that their cocks pressed against each other. Bakura’s hands ran across Marik’s shoulders and he hitched forward a second time. He started gasping each time he rocked and each time Marik’s kisses ended with a little suck. Marik grabbed Bakura’s face with both hands and pulled their mouths together. They hitched together. Bakura used one hand to hold their cocks close while the other one clung to Marik’s shoulder.

Marik leaned over and kissed the gold on Bakura’s arm. A strange laugh burst from Bakura’s throat. It wasn’t sardonic, but neither was it joyous. It was a loud, uncontrollable burst of emotion that Bakura couldn’t process except through noise and the shaking of his chest.

“Are you okay?” Marik whispered in Bakura’s ear before kissing the side of his face up to his temple.

“Overwhelmed.” He stared at Marik. “Remember when we thought good things couldn’t possibly happen to us? Now here we are.”

Marik smiled, and for the first time in his life he knew the kind of joy that made people want to thank the gods. Marik whispered Bakura’s name and their kisses grew soft again. They hardly touched their mouths together and their hands shook with overpowering emotion. Bakura squeezed his legs more tightly around Marik, nudging his cock faster against Marik’s until Marik couldn’t take it any longer.

He reached over and grabbed the lube and poured a small amount on his fingers. Bakura shifted so that Marik could reach beneath him and prod Bakura’s asshole with his middle finger. After a few pushes Marik realized he needed more lube and poured the gel over his fingers until it dripped down to the sheets below them. The second time he was able to slip inside with only a little twist of his finger. Marik pushed in and out, back and forth, wiggled the digit inside Bakura. He did whatever he could think of, trying to get a reaction out of Bakura who was busy licking the shell of Marik’s ear.

Marik added a second finger and forced a little grunt from Bakura’s mouth.

“Good or bad?”

“Strange,” Bakura gasped. “But…” Bakura’s breath quickened as Marik started moving both fingers. “I think… I like it- _ah_!”

Bakura _ahed_ when Marik hooked his fingers, trying to explore the soft, warm insides of Bakura’s body. He kept his fingers hooked and took his time pressing in small up and down movements. Bakura outright panted in time with the motion. His ass started to squeeze around Marik’s fingers.

“You’re like a golden statue.” Bakura’s voice dropped to the slightest breath, as if he didn’t trust himself to speak when it wasn’t insults or arguments. “In the tomb of a great king, and I want to rob you. Under the cover of night I’d come and clutch you to my chest. I would place you on top of an altar of jewels, keeping you, never taking you to the market.”

Marik slathered his cock with lube and, using both hands, guided Bakura’s hips to lift up and then ease down until he was impaled. Bakura’s chest rose and fell with shallow breath, but Marik moaned with a husky voice.

“Warm,” he murmured against Bakura’s chest as he encouraged Bakura to rise up and ease down. “So warm, sweet gods.”

Bakura sputtered for breath, digging his nails into Marik’s shoulders. Marik guided Bakura’s hips faster.

“Wait,” Bakura groaned.

“Are you okay?” Marik’s hands stopped, and his eyes popped open. His gaze was lost and hazy with lust, but a look of concern washed over his face.

“I’m fine.” Bakura eased up and off of Marik’s cock. He sighed in relief. “I need a moment.”

“Was I hurting you?” Marik asked, cupping Bakura’s face with both hands.

“No.” Bakura pulled his face away. “I just need more lube, or something.”

“Oh.” Marik gave himself another coat. He winced as the cold liquid rolled down his balls. “Better?’

Bakura grunted and held his breath as he eased back down.

“Better?” Marik repeated.

“Gimme a moment.” Bakura still looked away.

“Bakura, what’s wrong?”

“It feels- my body just wants to push everything out, okay? It’s weird.” He growled, his face a wreck of scarlet and sweat.

“Weird?”

“Do you want to switch and feel for yourself?”

“Oh hell no.” Marik shook his head. “We’re waiting until we figure out what the fuck we’re doing before we go anywhere near my asshole.”

Bakura snorted, amused. “Why the hell am I the guinea pig?”

“I let you pick what we did!”

“You’re right.” Bakura lifted up and allowed gravity to let him sink over Marik’s cock a second time. “Let’s maybe…go a little slower? I need to adjust.”

“Here.” Marik held Bakura’s hips in place so he sat still with Marik throbbing inside of him.

Marik kissed Bakura as he smoothed his hands down Bakura’s chest. After a moment, Marik’s fingers found Bakura’s shaft and he started gliding his fingers up and down. Bakura’s breath sped up, but this time it sounded turned on and eager. Marik readjusted his grip, holding tight and pulling up before slamming down. Bakura started to squirm, and then rock his hips, trying to thrust into Marik’s fist. Marik allowed Bakura to choose their pace while he stroked Bakura and dotted kisses across Bakura’s collarbone.

“Better?” Marik asked a third time.

“Much better.” Bakura sighed.

He rolled his hips forward and up and then down and away. His belly reminded Marik of the dancers he’d seen during festivals as a child. Marik half-watched, his attention divided between the way Bakura looked and the way he _felt_.

“That’s right.” Marik paused his strokes in order to nip Bakura’s nipple and pull an erotic cry from Bakura’s lips. “You feel so good on my cock.”

“Can we use more lube?” Bakura asked.

Marik nodded. Bakura rose up and Marik poured another round on both their dicks. He didn’t see what good more would do, the sheets were spotted as it was, but Bakura wanted it, so Marik gave it to him. Bakura eased back down with a sigh and moved quicker than before.

“Oh, Bakura,” Marik gasped, enjoying the swifter pace and the sound of their skin slapping together.

“Marik. Touch me.”

Marik made a fist around Bakura’s cock and stroked as fast as he could. Bakura huffed, and then called out, and then started bouncing faster than before.

“Oh, fuck yes,” Marik moaned.

“I'm coming!” Bakura’s fingers netted into Marik’s hair. He wailed, gave a final roll of his hips, and deflated until he sat in Marik’s lap with his cheek pressed against Marik’s chest. “I, I’m exhausted. Can we change positions?”

Marik laid Bakura down onto his back and situated himself between Bakura’s legs.

“How about this?”

Bakura nodded, drawing his legs in and holding his knees.

“I’ll try to go slow.”

Marik meant the words, but once he was inside and moving within the luxuriant warmth of Bakura’s body, it was hard to restrain himself. He watched Bakura’s face, and Bakura stared up at him with a tired, aroused expression.

“It’s okay, I’m relaxed now. You can speed up if you want to.”

With a sigh of relief, Marik did just that. He thrust at his own pace, and with every thrust Marik called out.

“Bakura!”

Bakura’s hands fumbled from Marik’s shoulders to his back. He held his hands against Marik’s marred skin. One hand glided down to Marik’s ass, pushing Marik a little harder and deeper.

“Marik, oh Marik, I want to feel you come inside me.”

“Soon. Bakura, I’m so close.”

Bakura’s thighs framed Marik’s body as he squeezed, using his ab muscles to hitch up into Marik’s thrusts. It made every push of Marik’s body go a little deeper and feel a little more desperate. A swell of pleasure burgeoned inside of Marik, sending a bright, sunlight feeling shooting from his pelvis and all across his nerves. Then Marik’s entire body tightened and he came, shouting until his voice cracked. He lay on top of Bakura afterward, still inside him. Their bodies radiated heat, their chests thudding.

“I already can’t wait to do that again.” Bakura teased the curves of Marik’s body with his fingertips.

“Really? I was worried at the beginning.”

“It’ll be easier next time, now that I know what to expect,” Bakura said.

“M-maybe you can fuck me next time.” Marik spoke to Bakura’s chest, not having the nerve at that moment to look at him.

“Maybe after a blow job.” Bakura spoke in a low, seductive tone that made Marik shiver with desire.

“Deal.” Marik kissed Bakura's chest.

“Is this okay?” Bakura toyed with Marik's back, drawing spirals and zigzags in random places.

“It feels nice.” Marik gave Bakura a sleepy grin. “Every bit of me feels nice right now.”

“Do you want to take a shower? I meant what I said, about your back.”

“You really wouldn't mind?” Marik blushed; talking about his back felt as intimate as touching Bakura.

“I said I would.”

“Yeah, but you thought you were going to be destroyed in a few days when you said it.” Marik chuckled, kissing Bakura's chest again.

“Yeah, I did.” Bakura laughed with him. “But I really wouldn't mind. Any excuse to touch you.”

“Ah, there's your true motivation.” Marik dragged himself up high enough to kiss Bakura's lips. “But maybe I could return the favor and touch you back.”

Then they did just that. Gliding their fingers along the curves of each other’s bodies, drawing on each other's chests with their fingertips, tracing their lips up each other's throats. It took twenty minutes before they even remembered that they were going to take a shower.

***

The next morning, Marik woke up wrapped up in a blanket. Sunlight poured through the porthole. Marik blinked and swallowed as he tried to reorient himself. His body clenched in a tight, pleasant spasm when he remembered the night before. He was rested from sleeping the night through and wondered if Bakura wanted to make good on the promised blow job- after breakfast, of course.

Marik sat up, looking around. He noticed Bakura sitting in a chair near the bed, flipping through their cards.

“Did you want to play?”

“Not really. Not for awhile at least,” Bakura said, still staring at two cards in particular. “I was just thinking about our game.”

“Still in shock that we won?” Marik laughed.

“A little,” Bakura confessed before shrugging. “But really I was thinking about our cards…our story, and how the duel ended.”

“It ended with us making out on Yugi’s game room floor.” Marik winked.

“My favorite part.” Bakura grinned at the memory. “I meant the trap card. Using Relay Soul to pull Diabound from your hand was sort of appropriate.” Bakura looked up at Marik, his face serious. “Because you have my soul in your hand.”

“I thought about leaving Mask of Brutality out of our deck.” Marik kept his eye locked on Bakura’s gaze. “But, honestly, it’s how we dealt with everything, with a mask, a very cruel mask. Just like Zorc, it needed to be in our deck.” Marik smiled, feeling foolish about how sentimental he was about to get. “But, I want you to know, that beneath that mask you've always worn lies the most beautiful soul I’ve ever seen.” Marik reached out to Bakura, touching the gold band on Bakura’s arms with two fingers. “And I swear for the rest of my life to treat it gently so you’ll never need to wear a mask again.”

Bakura choked on an exhale and buried his face into his hands.

“Hey.” Marik held Bakura's shoulders and rested his forehead against the crown of Bakura’s head. “It's okay now. It's okay.”

“I know,” Bakura whispered. “That's what's so terrifying.”

“Want some breakfast? I'll cook some of that disgusting bacon you dared to bring onto my precious ship.”

Bakura held a deep breath and sputtered it out of his lungs. “Sounds good. Guess I need to get used to regular eating again now that I'm alive.”

Marik offered his hand and Bakura accepted it. They went to the galley where Bakura had scrambled eggs and bacon while Marik had nuts and fruit.

“You're eating like some cliche fantasy elf,” Bakura teased with a smile on his face.

“Big talk. Your breakfast looks like it belongs to a fat American.”

“There's no gun beside the bacon.”

Marik smacked his forehead at the remark. They both chuckled and finished their breakfast. Next they went to the deck. Too much time below deck made Marik's scars itch. No matter how many times he told himself it was psychological, it never helped.

Marik leaned against the rail. He closed his eyes and sucked in the fresh, salt air. Keeping his eyes closed, Marik felt the burn of the sun on his face and he basked in the sensation.

Then a cool, gentle touch brushed up Marik's sun-warmed cheek. His eyes snapped open and he smiled at Bakura. The ocean wind scattered Bakura's hair like the sea foam that crashed against the boat’s hull and misted their shoulders and arms.

“Didn't I promise you a blow job?” Bakura asked as he teased Marik just above his belt line. “I bet you'd enjoy it more out here in the sunlight, wouldn't you?”

“Oh fuck yes.” The sunlight glittered in Marik's eyes at the suggestion.

He pulled off his shirt, and then decided he wanted Bakura shirtless as well. He pulled the fabric away as he kissed along Bakura's shoulder, even as Bakura kissed across Marik's chest.

Bakura meandered his kisses down Marik's stomach. He unbuckled Marik's belt and unzipped Marik’s fly with deliberate movements before kneeling and kissing down Marik's Adonis belt.

Marik kicked out of his pants and planted his ass against one of the railing bars. Bakura licked up Marik's thigh and Marik's breath hitched.

“You're so beautiful,” Bakura murmured. “I didn't think you could get any more beautiful, but your body was made to gleam in the sunlight.”

Marik's cheeks burned, but it wasn't the sun’s doing. He hitched forward, nudging his hard cock towards Bakura. Bakura noticed and grinned as he looked up at Marik. Bakura kept their gazes locked as he reached out his pink tongue and licked the dark, copper tip of Marik's cockhead.

“ _Aaa.”_ Marik's fingers gripped the railing.

Bakura tied his hair in a knot so the wind blew less of it into his face. He pushed out how tongue again, and this time he left a shining trail along Marik's shaft.

“Don't tease!” Marik begged as his cock twitched against Bakura's lips.

“No?” Bakura's breath against Marik's cockhead caused a shudder to run from Marik's balls to his navel.

“Please, Bakura.”

“Very well.” Bakura licked his lips and opened his mouth wide to accommodate Marik's size.

He went down half mast before sucking back up. Bakura stayed at the midpoint of Marik's shaft until he managed to coat Marik's cock with enough spit to make it easily slide all the way down to the back of Bakura's throat.

“Gods.” Marik freed one hand in order to hook his fingers into Bakura's hair.

Bakura relaxed and allowed Marik to thrust in and out of Bakura's mouth at his desired pace. Bakura rolled Marik's balls as Marik slipped in and out of Bakura's wet, tightly sealed lips.

“Gods!” Marik screamed again.

The wind picked up, blowing into Marik's face and pulling his hair. The sun warming him, the wind cooling the sweat beading along his chest, and the slip-slip feel of his cock going in and out of Bakura's mouth were all too much for him to process all at once. Too good, too good, too good, Marik hovered at the brink of climax and stayed there.

After several minutes he leaned back against the rail again, giving Bakura control. Bakura grabbed Marik's base and sucked for all he was worth. Marik gazed down at him, enjoying the show.

The rosy flush on Bakura's shoulders and cheeks added to the aesthetic of the moment, but then a stray thought crashed through the erotic haze of Marik's thoughts.

“Bakura? Did Ryou burn easily?”

“That nerd never went outside.” Bakura pulled away to answer, his hand still clutching Marik's base. “Why are we talking about my host mid-blow-job?”

“I think we’d better get inside again.”

“I'm not done!” Bakura scowled.

“Bakura, you're burning.” Marik touched Bakura's shoulder and he winced.

“Fuck,” Bakura swore before grabbing his shirt and running below deck.

Marik gathered up his clothes and followed Bakura. Even with the light on, the bedroom looked dim after the brightness of the sun. Bakura stood in front of a mirror, dabbing his fingers along his shoulder.

“Last time I had my own body, I was darker than you.”

“I have aloe lotion. Want me to rub you down?”

“Later.” Bakura glanced over his shoulder, red eyes smoldering with a passionate look.

“You know…” Marik twirled his fingers through his wind blown hair. “You were supposed to take your turn after the blow job.”

“You didn't come.”

“Well.” Marik smirked. “I thought that after you finished then you'd let me take another turn.”

Bakura licked his friction-burned lips and grabbed the lube. Marik lay down on his back, but Bakura shook his head.

“I don't think you'll like it like that. Roll onto your side.”

Marik blinked a moment and then remembered his scars. He had to remember his own scars, and Marik smiled as he rolled into his side and hugged a pillow to his chest. Few moments could distract him enough to forget the consistent tightness in his back, but Bakura had managed to do it.

Marik brought up his top knee to the pillow and kept his bottom leg straight. Bakura straddled Marik's bottom leg and kissed up his hip.

“You still smell like sunshine.”

Marik hummed at the statement. He felt warmed all over from the sun on his naked body moments ago, but didn't mention it because he knew Bakura felt too much sun on his ever brightening skin.

The first finger was easy, and when Bakura added another he went slow and deep to help Marik adjust. Bakura's fingers sent wonderful jolts against Marik's prostate and he struggled not to stroke himself.

“I'm ready,” Marik snapped, impatient only because he was too turned on to wait a second longer.

“Alright,” Bakura chuckled.

His stomach jerked when Bakura started to push in. Marik gasped, a rollercoaster looping in his guts. He panted as Bakura held still a moment.

“Feels weird, doesn't it?”

Marik nodded. He realized his nails dug into the pillow.

“T-try moving.” Marik gasped.

A cool burst surrounded Marik's asshole, and he realized why Bakura kept asking for more lube the night before. The coolness alleviated some of the burn of having a cock stretching him out.

Bakura rocked in a gentle rhythm. Marik continued to clutch at his pillow like a skittish kitten, but rode out the strange feeling because- despite the insane urge to try and push Bakura back out- each thrust hit Marik's prostate and made him grunt in pleasure.

“Need a break?” Bakura gasped, clearly not wanting one himself.

“F-faf-faster,” Marik stuttered between pants.

“You sure?”

“Please.” Marik closed his eyes and moaned. He was 100% sure.

Another cool kiss of lube anointed him, and Marik sighed in appreciation. Then Bakura braced his hand on Marik's top hip. He readjusted and hiked deeper into Marik's ass.

“Bakura!”

“Okay?”

“More!”

“Fuck, Marik. Anything you want.” Bakura set into a wild pace, jabbing and thrusting.

He rode into Marik’s ass like he was riding a stallion into the sunset, or sunrise. Marik clung to his pillow and called out in time with each thrust.

“God-fucking-dammit, Bakura!” Marik cursed.

He wasn't sure which god and didn't care. All he knew was there was no way in hell he was waiting until Bakura finished. He needed to come, and he needed to come NOW.

Marik grabbed his cock with quick, careless jerks of his hand. He grit his teeth, wrinkled his brow, and curled his toes as he rode out stab after stab of pleasure. Then he was shaking, and coming, and screaming in rapture.

“Marik,” Bakura groaned as he watch Marik become undone.

Bakura slowed down a touch so he could lean over and kiss the side of Marik's scars. Marik gasped for breath, ears ringing and vision a little blurred from the strength of his orgasm.

Bakura gave several last, hard hitches of his hips before coming himself and dropping to his side behind Marik. He kissed Marik's back, over and over.

“I couldn't wait.” Marik chuckled at himself.

“Not complaining.” Bakura ran his fingers down Marik's shoulder. “How's your back?”

“How are your shoulders?” Marik shifted so he could face Bakura. “You look roasted. It's worse than when we first came down.”

“Oh?” Bakura laughed off the pained expression on his face. “Serves me right for loving a sun-worshipper like you.”

Marik's heart skipped. He touched Bakura's sternum. “Love? Was that a euphemism or did you mean it?”

“Ha.” It was sunburn on his face, but it looked the the world's best blush. “A little of both, I suppose.”

“I bet a cold shower would feel good on your skin right now.”

“Okay.” Bakura took Marik's hand and kissed his knuckles.

Marik stood and helped Bakura to his feet. Bakura used a band to tie up his hair again. Their lovemaking had ruined the improv tu knot. In the shower, the chilled water made their nipples hard, and Marik couldn't help flicking at Bakura's.

“Turn around,” Bakura said.

Marik complied, and Bakura washed Marik's skin with a thick lather of soap and his fingertips. Marik sighed, enjoying each pampering touch to his skin.

“There you go.” Bakura patted Marik's ass when he finished.

“Your turn.” Marik grinned as he rubbed the soap in his hands.

He teased Bakura's thighs and stomach, but kept his touch light against Bakura's crimson shoulders and upper back.

“It looks like you're wearing a scarlet robe,” Marik said as he rinsed the lather away.

“I used to.” Bakura turned off the water and they dabbed at each other with their towels, careful not to irritate each other’s skin.

“I’ll grab the lotion. It’ll be more comfortable in the bedroom,” Marik said.

“Want me to do you first?” Bakura sat on the bed and asked over his shoulder when he heard Marik step into the room.

“You already did me once today.” Marik winked.

“You know what I meant.” Bakura gave the joke half a chuckle and shook his head.

“Yeah.” Marik sat behind him on the bed. “But I think we should save the best for last- which means you go first.”

“Fuck you.” Bakura smiled and dropped his head a little so Marik could dab the cold aloe lotion over his burning skin.

“You’ve already fucked me once today.”

“Have you always been such a dork?” Bakura asked.

“I mean.” Marik laughed at himself a little as he smoothed circles around Bakura’s shoulders and back. “I did name my crime organization The Ghouls because Rishid used to tell me scary stories when I was eight.”

“Ryou would probably love to hear those stories.” Bakura snorted.

“We… never gave him back his cards, did we?”

“Conveniently, no.” Bakura smirked.

“Well, I’m sure Yugi will tell him you’re back, so I guess if he wants them he’ll get ahold of us somehow.” Marik kissed the side of Bakura’s ear. “It’s time for you to do me now.”

“Didn’t I already do you once today?” Bakura asked in a candid tone.

“Who’s the fucking nerd now?” Marik dropped the aloe into Bakura’s lap and turned away from him.

Bakura switched directions as well, staring at Marik’s back. He looked only a moment before shaking his head and pouring lotion into his hands. He smoothed the cream down Marik’s back and worked it into Marik’s skin.

“You know,” Marik said. “The stories always go on and on about thieves’ hands. How they’re agile, dexterous, nimble.”

“I’d say that’s true. You can’t be clumsy if you’re going to disable traps,” Bakura said.

“But they never mention the best part.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Bakura grinned.

“Gentle.”

“With you? Always.” Bakura brushed Marik’s hair away from his shoulders and kissed the nape of Marik’s neck as he worked the aloe cream into the wing scars.

Marik sighed and relaxed into Bakura’s touch. He regretted when it was over and he had to dress. Bakura tossed on some pants, but kept himself shirtless. Marik grazed his nails down the unburned part of Bakura’s lower chest.

“I don't mind staring at you without a shirt.”

Bakura snorted, but a smile teased the corners of his mouth. “There's a canopy over the chairs, right?”

“Yeah.” Marik nodded.

“Make some lemonade, and we can sit up on the deck again.” Bakura turned towards him, a full grin now on his face.

“We don't have to.” Marik looked away. He liked the idea, but the salt air probably wouldn't be the best against Bakura's skin.

“Marik.” Bakura stepped close and cupped Marik's face so they could stare into each other's eyes. “You've spent a lot of time in the dark, and so have I.” He closed his eyes and kissed Marik's lips before pulling away enough to look at him again. “So, for the rest of our lives, I want to spend every single moment I can with you beneath the stars and the sun.”

“Then I’d better go make some lemonade.” Marik leaned in for another kiss, and then another. He kissed Bakura, and kissed him, and kissed him, until they couldn’t kiss any longer because their smiles were too wide.

 


End file.
